


Boy Toy

by Hambone



Category: Lego Ninjago
Genre: F/M, Femdom, Forced Orgasm, Mild Blood, Oral Sex, Sexuality, Vaginal Sex, Verbal Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-27
Updated: 2018-04-27
Packaged: 2019-04-28 14:06:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,118
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14450868
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hambone/pseuds/Hambone
Summary: She likes to play, he doesn't get a say in it.





	Boy Toy

**Author's Note:**

> Written because when Zane showed up in disguise I thought it was actually UV and we were gonna get some fuckery lol.
> 
> Enjoy~!

    Cole was sore and angry. He didn’t actually believe Zane had betrayed the team, because he knew him better than that, but was not pleased that his plan, whatever that was, had entailed so much humiliation on his end. He always got the shit end of the stick. Zane was a great guy, really, but he could use with a bit more empathy at times. So, despite knowing that his incarceration might be necessary to whatever his friend was planning, he didn’t let them take him without a fight. So, again and in kind, Cole was now not in the best shape. Apart from having hollered his throat raw at the guards, he was bruised and battered in more places than he cared to count, and a little dizzy.

    By the next time he heard movement from outside his cell, he had given up on annoying them. It was exhausting to keep the cheery attitude about him, as priceless as the growls of restrained rage from his captors were. Even as he gave into his begrudging silence, however, he could hear Jay’s high voice promoting the power of positive thinking, and it made him smile a fraction. He was glad that Zane had at least had the sensitivity to not try this with any of the other ninja. Cole had the most resistance to punishment among them barring maybe Lloyd, who continued to defy all odds and was stronger and tougher than any of them combined when the chips were down. Plus, Kai tended to get mad first and ask questions later, and Jay was such an emotional wreck under pressure. Nya would have been fine, though; she was tough as nails.

    He was so lost in considering this that when Ultra Violet began to laugh he was totally caught off guard.

    “Enjoying your stay?”

    She ran a knife across the bars of his cell, giggling to herself as Cole attempted to catch his breath – and his pride – and pretend he hadn’t just screamed like a banshee.

    “What do you want with me?”

    Cole was not interested in playing along with the game when he wasn’t even sure of the rules. He crossed his arms and drew up his chin, looking down his nose at the gangster. Ultra Violet was not short by any means, but she was still an inch or two his junior and he used it to what little advantage he had. She was not bothered by this in the slightest.

    “Wouldn’t you like to know.”

    Her eyes crinkled at the corners, smile turning sharp. Too annoyed to really be worried, Cole shifted, rolling his eyes.

    “Can we drop the whole villainous banter act, please? I’m already trapped in here, there’s no good reason to waste time taunting me about it.”

    And he was indeed trapped. The vengestone bars had left some deep bone bruising on his knuckles he was not likely to forget soon.

    “No good reason?” she cackled meanly, “I don’t need a reason to enjoy playing with you, ninja boy.”

    She dragged her knife across the cell door again, the opposite direction. That couldn’t be good for the blade. Cole winced each time it connected loudly with the heavy metal.

    “And what if I’m not in the mood to play?”

    Ultra Violet threw her knife to the ground and grabbed the bars with both hands. The act was so unnecessarily violent and sudden that Cole once again lost his composure, arms dropping to his sides in form, prepared to defend himself. It was enough to have Ultra Violet howling with laughter, and he found himself growing hot in the face. He wasn’t really scared of these guys, but something about this girl had set him on edge from the start. The others seemed to be regular thugs, if a little deluded about the realities of their cause, but Violet here was unhinged. He half wondered if she even cared about Garmadon at all or simply enjoyed the chance to cause chaos. Given her facial markings, which he was slowly realizing were actual, permanent tattoos, he was inclined to think her dedication was real, but at the same time posited that getting gang signs scrawled on your face on a whim seemed in line with her character. A villain with a motive could be read and hopefully preempted. People like her were more like wild animals, only doing what was in their nature for no reason other than that it felt right.

    What felt right to her probably didn’t feel too good for others.

    “Aww,” she cooed mockingly, “pretty boy ninja doesn’t want to play with me? But I’m so fun!”

    “A little too fun for me, I think.”

    She laughed at that, again, and Cole decided that if he had found it unpleasant before, it now grated his ears like a saw blade.

    “Maybe you just need to learn how to play better.”

    Pacing, she shifted her shoulders like a hungry lion inside its cage, only Cole was the one who was trapped here, not her. The illusion was practically perfect as she licked her lips, smearing some of her black lipstick onto her cheek.

    “Are you gonna teach me?”

    “Oh, yes.”

    The words were spoken like a spell, her tongue rolling over her teeth. Cole felt all the hairs on his arms stand up, coldness settling down his spine. He expected Ultra Violet to say more, but instead she just stared at him, weighing him up. He hated not being sure what was going to happen next. There was as high a chance of her throwing that knife right at him as there was of her simply leaving, having enjoyed trying to frighten him enough. Possibly some other option he couldn’t even think of, being a largely sane person himself.

    Ultra Violet had pulled herself close to the cell, the leather of her jacket creaking as her breasts pressed into the bars. Her lips were pulled so wide that her whole face seemed distorted, the clashing colors of makeup and ink creating false shadows and highlights. Cole found himself straightening his posture, muscles tensing on instinct. He had been frustrated and sore before, but the tone was changing.

    “Do you think I’m pretty?”

    The question caught him off guard and for a moment Cole didn’t even process it. Ultra Violet tilted her head and giggled, her nose wrinkling. Cole’s mouth fell open and he stammered a second.

    “I,” he snorted, “I think you are way more crazy than I’m ever going to deal with.”

    “Aww!”

    She was pressing her face against the bars now, trailing her knife up and down the uneven vengestone slowly.

    “What’s wrong, you don’t like girls?”

    Another odd chill passed through Cole. He tried to ignore it.

    “I’d congratulate you for pointing out the obvious, but even if I did I wouldn’t touch your wasps nest with a hundred foot pole.”

    He had expected rage, or, more likely, more laughter, but instead she seemed to quieten, face slackening curiously. Her rythemless knife play slowed to a halt, leaving the atmosphere between them uncomfortably silent. Cole caught himself straining to hear anything from outside the prison, the movement of other members of the gang, the purr of motorbikes, something to shake him from the abrupt and eerie calm. The realization of how alone he was with her was beginning to itch beneath his skin.

    “Do you actually want something, or is this just a courtesy visit?”

    Ultra Violet grabbed the bars and screamed. It wasn’t anger, or fear, or joy, just a base, wild cry. Cole jumped about a foot out of his skin, immediately falling into a defensive position, fists raised. She laughed again, eyes wide, and shook at the bars. Then she reached down, and Cole saw something glitter in her hand beside the knife. It was a key.

    “I think it’s the other way around. You want this, don’t-cha?”

    She wriggled it around like a dead mouse in front of a snake, trying to catch Cole’s interest enough to get him to bite. It was stupid; he knew she wasn’t going to give it to him.

    “I would say ‘duh’, but I don’t know if reality can get through that thick skull of yours.”

    Ultra Violet was unperturbed. It was Cole who was again surprised when, instead of making another weird comment or rattling his cage, she simply slipped the key into the lock. It must have shown on his face, because her smile grew smugger by the second. She turned the key and the lock audibly clicked open, the sound echoing across the empty dungeon to the same beat as Cole’s suddenly racing heart. This was possibly a chance to escape, but, as crazy as she was, he knew this girl wasn’t stupid. Something stunk here, and he had to tread very carefully as to avoid slipping in it.

    She pulled the lock off the door, slinging it around her finger a few times before it slipped off the flew across the room into some dark corner with a clang. Cole’s muscles were so tight his bones ached. One hand began to open the cell door, the other still clutching her knife. Cole watched.

    The door fell open wide. Ultra Violet stood in the entrance, waiting. Cole didn’t move, fixing her with a hard stare as he tried to size her up. He couldn’t hear anything from outside the room, had no idea what kind of trap had been set. After a minute, she put her free hand on her hip, relaxing her posture.

    “Smart boy, aren’t you?”

    Cole did not break his stance.

    “You may be just one guy, but I saw the rest out there. I’m good, but I’m not that good.”

    “Hmm,” she purred, “I wonder how good you really are.”

    She took a step into the cell. A drop of sweat fell between Cole’s shoulder blades.

    “Hands behind your back.”

    He didn’t move. She frowned.

    “You heard me, big boy.”

    “Big boy?”

    Cole wrinkled his nose.

    “Why?”

    “Because if you don’t comply I’ll have Killow come help me out here.”

    Killow, he assumed, was the large guy. Giant, more like.

    “He has a hard time with little bones. They just snap like twigs to him. Even ones with such a,” she paused, tongue flickering across her lips again, “healthy body to support them.”

    Cole showed his teeth, feeling ill.

    “Are you going to take me to your leader or something?”

    “Or something,” she said. She unclipped a pair of cuffs from her belt. Honestly, Cole hadn’t even noticed them before. Her clothes were so ornamented that he hadn’t been able to discern one silver jangling shape from the next. The idea of getting out of the cell was appealing, however, especially with the way he was being eyed. As strange as it seemed, being in a den of these criminals sounded a lot safer than being alone with Ultra Violet, under any circumstances. Violent, he could deal with. Crazy, he’d seen before. It was the underlying intent she had that was so disturbing. It had been a long time since a criminal had been so openly flirtatious towards him, and no more pleasant than he remembered it being. At least Skaliador had been somewhat subtle.

    He didn’t say anything, simply turning and showing her his wrists at the small of his back. There was a pretty good chance he was going to get to see Zane – or Snake Jaguar – as well, if he truly had infiltrated the Sons of Garmadon successfully. Even if not, two was better than one in places like this, though, really, six would have been preferable. Zane’s long game didn’t necessarily require him to be here, he hoped, so at the very least there was a good chance he could escape when he wasn’t surrounded by vengestone.

    The cuffs snapped around his wrists easily. He almost had forgotten what he had paused their one-sided standoff for, and had to stifle a twitch as the cold metal tightened close to the skin. They were good cuffs, at least, clean and new looking. While everything about these gangsters screamed ‘wealthy backer’, he had almost expected her to pull out something rusted over with old blood, like the torture implements of a horror film. The look fit her.

    “Alright, lead the way.”

    Ultra Violet laughed at him, and when he tried to turn to face him she tightened her grip around his wrists, stopping him. He looked over his shoulder with a grimace.

    “What could _possibly_ be so funny now?”

    “You’re just so naïve, big boy,” she said.

    “Okay?”

    He was done with this bantering. He nudged at the door again, with just enough force to let her know he meant it. She remained immobile, and the hand on his arm squeezed until her sharp nails bit his skin.

    “Who said we’re going anywhere?”

    “What-!”

    Cole whipped around, but she moved with him, fluidly grabbing his shoulder with her free hand. He was taken aback and an easy target. Ultra Violet wasn’t much shorter than he was, but she had dexterity he sorely lacked at the moment. In the same flurry of motion she crouched and dug her shoulder into his back, releasing him and topping Cole over her body. It was a hard fall and Cole’s skull cracked against the stone floor, whiting out his vision briefly. That was all the time she needed, and before he could even see again he felt the teeth of her blade threaten his jugular, and the weight of her body settled hard across his waist.

    The image of Ultra Violet’s smug face filled his mind, and he squeezed his eyes shut to avoid having to see it in reality as his brain caught up with his body. Leather squeaked and groaned, stretched across him. She was heavy, and not just from all the metal she wore. There was hard muscle behind the costume, something he hadn’t taken much note of when their combat had been mainly speed based. Having fallen onto his back, the cuffs were chaffing both his wrists and spine, through his shirt, and he shifted uncomfortably.

    “What the hell-?”

    “Hold still,” she snipped. Cole was happy enough to comply for the moment, head pounding. She wasn’t going to kill him, immediately at least - that much was obvious, so regaining his senses took precedence over bravado.

    Or at least it would have, but the hand not pressing a knife to his throat grabbed his jaw and turned him to face her harshly. He couldn’t stop his eyes from opening, mouth twisting in a snarl of indignation. Her eyes were black, pupils blown wide in the darkness as she observed him.

    “My, my, you are a handsome one, aren’t you?”

    “Get off me.”

    It was a command, but while his exterior remained hard, he was in no position to get results. She chuckled.

    “Rearrange those words and I think we have a deal.”

    While it took him a moment to catch the exact meaning of what she’d said, her tone relayed the jist of it instantly. He was now very aware of how tightly her thighs were squeezing his sides.

    “I thought we had this talk,” he growled.

    “I’m not interested.”

    “Not even if I promise you freedom?”

    She pouted in a manner meant to be cute.

    “Even if I believed you.”

    “Aww.”

    The knife pressed slightly deeper to his skin, hurting but not yet drawing blood.

    “But, see, it doesn’t really matter what you want.”

    Her hand stroked across his cheek gently, and then she slapped him, hard. Cole bit his cheek as his face hit the dirt to his right, and he spit blood, a little stunned. She hadn’t been careful with the knife either, and he could feel warmth gathering around it, though nothing serious.

    “Oops.”

    He could hear the smile in her voice without seeing it. Even as he collected himself, he turned to her, expression bestial.

    “ _Get off_.”

    “I said,” she leaned in close, and he could smell her breath, hot with alcohol, “it doesn’t matter what you want.”

    She curled her fingers into the neck of his gi. He had assumed her nails were press on, because of their length, but up close he could see the tiny defects that proved their natural origin. She dragged them beneath his outer clothes, palm hot on his pectorals. Her skin was cold, and goosebumps rose where she touched. He flexed against the cuffs, testing them, but already knew he was stuck. Vengestone was infused in everything down here; the Sons knew their enemies.

    “You’re already going to get locked up for the rest of what you’ve been up to, do you really want to add,” he paused, struggling with the word, “more to that list?”

    “Much more.”

    His clothing was impeding her, so she withdrew her hand.

    “One move and I’ll get you right between the ribs.”

    Carefully, she took the knife back from his throat. Cole glared at her, but obeyed. He trusted her to follow through with her word. Pleased, Ultra Violet gently wiggled the tip of the blade under the belt of his gi, scooting back to perch on his thighs and get a better angle.

    “You don’t have to do this.”

    “Exactly!” she crowed, “If I did, it’d be work, and that just sucks the fun out of everything.”

    With a quick twist of her wrist she pulled the knife up, cleanly cutting the cloth belt in half. The awkward angle he was in assisted gravity in drawing the front of his shirt open, falling just so around his pecs. With anxious sweat beading across his flesh, and the way his chest rose and fell nervously, it made a lewd sight. Holding the knife to her cheek, Ultra Violet sighed romantically. Cole grunted.

    “You’re sick.”

    “So I’ve been told!”

    He was hoping she’d be so distracted that her hold on the knife might slip, and he could twist his knee up, or ram his head into her stomach, somehow get the advantage, but she was quick to return the blade to his skin, ghosting it right above his heart.

    “No games, now,” she singsonged, “I’m in charge.”

    Using the tip of the knife she pushed his gi open wider, until it fell about his shoulders. The cell was cold and he felt his nipples pebble instantly. She noticed too, and giggled.

    “That’s more like it.”

    Ultra Violet resumed fondling him, cupping his pectorals and squeezing them like breasts. Cole tried to shift away, livid, but she dug the point of her knife into his chest, just enough to draw blood between his ribs.

    “I said no games.”

    “Then what do you call this?”

    She didn’t answer him, humming disjointedly to herself as she traced a finger around his nipple.

    “I love big boys,” she said, tweaking it gently, “I’d take Killow if I could.”

    “I don’t wanna hear it.”

    “I hope you’re not just big for show,” she said, ignoring him. Her eyes flicked suggestively to his groin, and he swallowed thickly.

    “Ever been with a girl before?”

    “No, and I’d like to keep it that way.”

    Twiddling the knife between her fingers, agitating the small cut she’d made, Ultra Violet wriggled her hand lower and lower. Between the crumpled folds of his top, she found the drawstring to his pants. She gave him a cheeky look, and he expected another sly comment, but she leaned down and licked a wet stripe across his stomach. He winced, disgusted, and tried to pull away again without thinking. Faster than he could realize what he’d done, she dug the knife in again, just a bit deeper this time, but it hurt far more than before.

    “You really can’t hold still, can you?”

    Between gritted teeth, Cole hissed his breath.

    “Of course not!”

    He could feel her breasts pressing against his hip where she crouched. She leaned down and rubbed her cheek across his abs, purring softly. Her greasy face paint smeared a snails trail along where she’d licked, uncomfortably warm.

    “Such a nice, big boy. I’m going to enjoy you very much.”

    She undid his drawstring, pushing his shirt away, looking down between their bodies as she began to shuck them down. Her breath tickled the hair around his navel with each uneven exhalation and he had to concentrate hard to keep from squirming away.

    When her fingers brushed his cock his stomach turned. Without removing her one hand from its sentinel on his chest, she carefully brushed his pants the rest of the way over his thigh and drew his dick from within.

    “Ooh!”

    He was glad she wasn’t looking at his face, because he was sure he was green. She sat back, bringing the knife down with her, to admire him, disheveled, furious. A streak of blood was rolling down the side of his chest, disappearing into the dark cloth of his gi. Cole’s cock was heavy in her hand, still thick even when unaroused. She dipped her fingers low, cupping his balls, sighing pleasantly.

    Cole couldn’t swallow his revulsion. He wanted to turn away, not look, but he was afraid of what she might get away with if he wasn’t vigilant. Not that there was much he could do anyways. While no longer digging into the hole in his chest, she held her knife dangerously close to his crotch, and he knew first-hand how quickly she could move when she wanted to. Every part of him wanted to fight, to react somehow, and at the same time was paralyzed with the knowledge that there was no way he could push her off and get out of here alive. There was a chance that simply getting her away from him now would be enough, that if others came to interfere they’d disapprove, or that he could perhaps turn her off by being enough of a bother, but the hope it stirred was dim. This was not a group concerned with modesty, and Ultra Violet was not a person whose mind followed logic. If anything, fighting her off might make her more excited. She seemed to enjoy drawing his blood.

    She noticed his distance and pulled him back, harshly, by wrapping her hand firmly around his shaft.

    “Ah-ah, you aren’t allowed to drift off on me now.”

    Cole growled low in his throat, voice becoming strained.

    “Don’t you dare do this.”

    “Or what?”

    She began to stroke him, cold skin dry and unpleasantly rough against his. Her technique was practiced, though, and even as nausea boiled in his stomach, he felt some of the heat heading swiftly lower as well. Ultra Violet was smirking down at him, knowing she’d won, and Cole’s gut wrenched. Without letting himself second guess it, he lunged forwards, abdominals tightening, and rammed his head into her jaw.

    They both fell away from one another, Cole flat on his back and she onto her rump, painfully crushing his legs.

    “Fuck-!”

    She didn’t get off him though, seated firmly upon him. He tried to roll to his side, arching up one knee, but she was on him again too quickly. Her knife hand raised above him, and in a brief, clear moment, Cole thought _Oh, I’m going to die_. Instead of that she punched him. Her fingers were still curled around the knife, and the handle reinforced her knuckles enough for a satisfying crack against his jaw. The cut from biting his mouth earlier reopened, wider, and he tasted blood.

    Ultra Violet laughed and screamed again, and as soon as his vision had started to come back she punched the other side of his face, knocking him back around.

    “Fuck with me all you want,” she yelled, “we both know what’s gonna happen here.”

    Whatever stimulation she’d built up in him had dissipated, but she grabbed him up and began working him again, taking advantage of his stunned state. Cole’s head was spinning, and he groaned, trying to focus.

    “Stop it-!”

    She slammed the knife blade into dirt between the pavestones beside her, leaving it there to grip his hip instead. He was getting hard, and he hated it. She spit in her palm, working him faster this time. It was still too rough, too dry, and it hurt, but his back arched when she dug one of sharp nails into the slit of his tip, when she got him firm enough to pull his foreskin down around the head with a satisfying pop. She raked her other hand over his chest, tangling in the small black hairs scattered down his abdomen. Cole squeezed his eyes shut, mouth falling open, trying to concentrate on anything else.

    Zane was here, working on his mission. He was going to get what they needed, and get them out of there. Cole had faith in him, just like all his ninja brothers. Kai and Nya and Lloyd and Jay, they were out there looking for the both of them, a focused team. He was going to get out of here alive and well and they were going to bring these guys down. He was going to be okay. After all, they had been through much worse than he had before.

    Zane spent that long time in Chen’s prison, alone and confused. At least when Cole had been taken he had work to do, friend to talk with. Nya had been kidnapped by the Skullkin, though he didn’t know her then and wasn’t sure exactly how long it had been for, or what had happened. At the time it felt too awkward to ask and now it had been so long it seemed distasteful to bring up. Kai had never been taken prisoner in the same way, not for any extended period of time, but Nya was his sister and he’d suffered enough pain over her loss at the time, as well as Lloyd’s during those cold months when Morro had him. Lloyd, he probably had the most victim credibility of them all. The poor kid was constantly finding himself the sole focus of their enemy’s desire, for his powers or his father, sometimes simply as what they assumed was an easy target. Strong as he was, Lloyd was still struggling to find his place, and he’d suffered for it.

    Of course, then there was Jay. Something had happened to him, though Cole couldn’t quite remember what. Nya and Jay seemed to share some secret ever since that time when they’d been filmed kissing on national television, and while they’d tried to explain it, it seemed crazy, like some bizarre fantasy story they’d made up and decided to pretend was real, and yet even with that it also felt like they were leaving a lot out. Jay had been fairly touchy about certain aspects, and Cole had noticed him touching the area around his left eye a lot in the following week, but things had settled down shortly after and they could all forget what they seemed to have already forgotten. Cole had noticed a change in himself after that too, though he could not recall what to attribute it to. It was a shy memory, a bad taste in the back of his throat he couldn’t quite wash out, something that flashed across his mind right before falling asleep at night that made him wake up in a cold sweat.

    He couldn’t bear the idea of Jay knowing what was being done to him now.

    “Fuck, that’s lovely.”

    Ultra Violet held his cock between her hands, measuring its girth. She drew one finger along the thick vein on its underside, handling him like a rare treasure. Her black eyes flickered up to meet his, empty of anything but joy, sadism. Cole lay back, breathing heavily through his nose, trying not to let the heat behind his eyes spill out. The physical pleasure was there, but it felt like another person entirely, like his lower half had been cut off and he knew what was happening to it but it was no longer a part of him. His legs were numb.

    With a loud squeak of leather, she shifted her hips up, until his cock stood erect between her thighs. He could feel her heat around him now, even through her thick clothing. She reached up and shuffled her vest down off her shoulders, letting it fall behind, and pulled her tube top down below her breasts, letting them bob free on her chest with her excited, quickened breaths. There was more strange, scrawling tattooing on her lower abdomen, and her dark nipples were both pierced. She tugged at one of them roughly, still coaxing at his cock with her other hand.

    “Still sure you don’t like girls? Looks like you do to me.”

    Cole stared at the ceiling, breathing. The expansion of his chest made the knife wound, however small, sting, and his wrists and back ached from the bad placement of his cuffs. He thought about that, and nothing else, or tried to.

    Ultra Violet unzipped her pants, one handedly struggling to undo one of the several belts around her waist.

    “Get ready.”

    She didn’t let up on his dick, taking her time to palm his balls, keeping him hard even as the abject horror in him flagged down whatever slight enjoyment he had been getting from it. Surprisingly she was able to lift her hips in such a way that her pants slid down her thighs easily. Cole had expected, hoped, that the tight leather would impede her movement, but she shed them to her knees. She hadn’t been wearing underwear, and, though Cole didn’t want to look, he couldn’t help but notice wetness shimmering down the line of her cunt, a gleam through the soft nest of her pubic hair. His throat was so tight he felt like he couldn’t swallow, or breathe, and he struggled to keep his stomach down.

    With a throaty moan, she reached down and pushed her fingers across her own cut, spreading the lips of her pussy. Cole was resolutely not looking, but she grabbed his chin with her other hand, pulling his face forward.

    “Pay attention now, I want your first time to be special.”

    She angled her hips upwards, giving him a glimpse of the dark pink between her legs. Cole jerked his head back, struggling against her again, even when her nails dug into his cheek so hard he felt the skin break.

    “You- get the hell off me!”

    Ultra Violet cocked her head at him, imitating a loving expression.

    “You’ll learn to love it, I promise.”

    “The hell I will!”

    Cole strained away from her so had he felt lightheaded, the muscles in his neck taught and unnatural looking. His face was red from shame and anger and the force of his fear, eyes rolling like an animal. Ultra Violet pushed forward until his cock was nuzzled up against her slickness, rubbing her cunt up and down the underside slowly. It was scalding hot, and wet, the mouth of a beast, voracious and drooling. He felt choked, but the pressure of her thighs around him, the friction, kept him hard.

    “Stop.”

    She rolled her head on her shoulders, moaning gutturally. Her hips raised until she was poised above him, just barely kissing the head of his cock with her pussy.

    “Stop!”

    His voice came out strangled and ugly. Ultra Violet held him in place with one hand, squeezing her tit with the other, and dropped onto his cock smoothly. Both of them cried out, hers feral and joyful, Cole with a keen disgust. At the same time his body betrayed him, bolts of liquid pleasure racing through his nerves, numbing his fingertips. He hadn’t had sex in a long while, hadn’t been intimate with another person since his last failed relationship. The textured squeeze of her cunt was new to him, something he didn’t want, but there was no denying how good it felt on a purely physical level. She held him firmly, rocking back and forth for a minute as her muscles relaxed and adjusted to his size.

    “Ah, yeah,” she breathed, teeth gleaming, “I knew you’d be good. How dare you try to hide this from me?”

    Cole, whose mouth had been so dry only moments before, found himself choking on his own saliva. He didn’t want to, but she kept him looking down between them, deeply, painfully aware of their new connection. She flexed around him and he groaned without meaning too, a sound of pleasured despair.

    “That’s good,” she was murmuring, grinning down at him, “real good. What a good, big boy you are!”

    “I-!”

    Cole didn’t know what he was. Ultra Violet smirked knowingly. She lifted her hips slowly, letting him feel every centimeter of his cock slip from within her, the cling of her pink beckoning him back into her warmth. Then she slammed back down, hard enough it burned.

    “I told you,” she said, “you like it, don’t you?”

    He hated it. He wanted to scream and thrash, and at the same time he was helpless and he wanted to cry. He couldn’t think straight, the discord between physical sensation and mental revulsion so strong that it left him unable to properly react on either instinct. It was like being a baby, not knowing what he wanted, not knowing how to get it even if he knew, only knowing that something was wrong. She rose again, faster this time, and a few tears slipped down across his cheek.

    “That’s right, let go.”

    His pain spurred her on, and she finally let his face drop, using her hands to balance on his chest as she began a punishing pace on top of him. The new angle had her leaning forwards over him, covering his body with hers, and it must have hit something good inside her because her face morphed from pure cruel lust to one distracted by satisfaction. She gripped his pecs tightly, kneading them roughly, mouth gaping in a grin. Every bounce swung her breasts across his stomach like a pendulum, nipples grazing his cut muscle.

    Somehow her skill made the whole situation worse. If it had been entirely awful, in both feeling and emotion, Cole could have transformed the experience into one solely of violence. Being attacked and hurt was part of his job, something he knew how to process. This kept him see-sawing between pulling away from her and pushing up into her, the pain making the pleasure seem so much more so. Once they had started, he couldn’t stop the tears from coming, bubbling up and out of his face like steam boiling from a kettle.

    She bounced on him so hard he knew the cuffs were cutting into his wrists now, jammed between his back and the stone floor. There must be blood. His heels dug into the floor, not trying to push her off, just to push something, a sensation caused only by himself to ground him. Ultra Violet bucked and rut on top of him, yelping like a hyena. She was kneading her breasts, reaching between her thighs to tug at her clit, unabashed and already nearing orgasm. Slick, wet noises from their fucking filled the cell, and Cole bit his tongue to keep from gagging.

    “Good, good boy!” she howled, and then she was constricting around him, hips losing all semblance of rhythm, and he realized, chest rising with relief, that her orgasm had hit. He had survived. It was over. She clawed at his protruding muscles and grit her teeth and rode herself out on his cock, grinding her clit against his root so hard he felt he’d get carpet burn. All of her muscles seemed to lock, and she slumped, still squeezing him hard inside her. His cock throbbed, responding to her with its own craving, but Cole couldn’t find it in himself to care. Without her moving, it was easier to bear.

    Leaning down over him until her breasts were sandwiched between their bodies, she smirked at him, makeup dripping down her sweaty face in a horrific abstract, the definition of her features blurred in the darkness. Her cunt refused to relinquish its hold on him, pulsing with the remains of orgasm in her blood. She traced around one of his nipples, already pink with scratches.

    “Poor little thing, still all hard,” she cooed, “guess you still need some help, don’t you?”

    She flexed around him. Cole hissed through his teeth.

    “I told you,” he panted, “I don’t want it.”

    The softness of her tits felt smothering. Her body was so hot, vile, making his stomach quiver with sickness.

    “You’re stubborn. I like that.”

    Fear pounded his gut, and for a moment Cole thought she was going to start all over again, fucking him until she got what she wanted, but she pulled herself off. He gasped for air, rising from the ocean of his despair. His sweat turned cold, her cum on his dick chilling, dampening any sensations of sex that still remained. Ultra Violet crouched between his legs, eyeing his body quizzically as he visibly calmed, breathing slower.

    “Stubborn, but stupid.”

    He didn’t care what that meant. He pressed his cheek to the floor, reveling in the spike of ice against his nerves.

    “You really think I’m letting you go unfinished? Rude.”

    Her now hot little hands circled around his cock again, unfazed by the mess. Cole jumped.

    “Don’t-!”

    “It’s either this or I climb on top again,” she said, laughing when he flinched.

    “I’m tired, it could take a while to get me off a second time, even with this lovely tool of yours.”

    She gave his cock a gentle tug for emphasis. Being shoved one way or another every few seconds was exhausting, emotionally and physically. He wanted to be left alone. He wanted to curl up in the corner and pretend this had never happened. He wanted Zane to come in here so he could hug him and yell at him and get the hell out of here. He wanted to sit on the couch playing video games with Jay and having a whole lot of nothing happen. He wanted-

    After a few quick strokes of her hand, Ultra Violet steadied him and wrapped her lips around the head of his cock. Cole gasped, hips bucking away, but she held him steady, gouging his hips with her little claws. The thrum of adrenaline, spiked with raging hormones, still burned in his veins, and he tried to buck her off again, but, rather than push him down with threats, she simply let him, using his movements to her advantage. She swallowed him to the base, swallowing the moment he hit her throat just so see him squirm and moan, not meaning to. He could feel her lips quirk in a smile.

    “I,” he stammered, voice so low and graveled with sex he could hardly force the words out, “don’t make me.”

    She pulled off of him, drooling copiously.

    “Don’t make you what, ninja?”

    He stared down at her, over his heaving chest, over the red marks along his belly, past his own cock, dark and solid. There was a black ring of lipstick around the middle, around the base, smeared across the head. He didn’t want to say it. Trying to swallow made more tears prick his eyes.

    “Don’t what?”

    She squeezed the base of his dick, stroking him slowly as she waited. He could feel her breath on him.

    “Don’t make me cum.”

    She paused. Cole snuffled, trying to keep the snot and tears out of his words.

    “Please.”

    And she just smiled at him.

    “When you put it that way,” she said, nuzzling close to the underside of his cock, “I’ve gotta do it.”

    Cole tried to say something more, or perhaps just yell, but all of it was swallowed up along with any control he had left when she took him in again. Her tongue laved at the veins along the bottom, her teeth scraped ever so gently around the fat spread of the head. She stroked what wasn’t in her mouth eagerly, too much, and Cole’s head pounded back on the stone with a crack and his balls tightened up to his stomach and he came, hard.

    She was down at the base when he started but she pulled off quickly, letting ropes of cum splatter across her face and his stomach, his thighs, marking him with the shame. He didn’t make a sound, air escaping silently from his nose as his jaw clenched so hard his teeth squeaked against one another and he thought the bone would break. She pumped him with her hands, cackling at him, and his hips humped at the air twice, pathetic little shivers of lost dignity. When he finished he was crying again, lips quivering, and he wouldn’t open his eyes for anything.

    “So sweet,” he heard her say, but he had given her everything he had and there was no reason to acknowledge her any further. She said some more things, too, but he could hardly hear them. His ears were ringing.

    The next thing he knew she had kicked him in the side, hard, and then again, rolling him over enough to reach his back. When she undid his cuffs he let his arms fall limp, barely able to feel them anymore. In the back of his mind he knew that when the blood returned it would hurt, horribly, but now everything was numb. The last thing he heard was her laughter echoing in the room, long after she’d exited.

    When Zane did come, Cole had done himself up again. His cum was cold and crusted along his stomach, but it was hidden under his gi, shirt re-done, pants pulled up and fastened with his salvaged belt, and Zane didn’t seem to think anything was off about him at all, asking about his eyes, relaying what he could of his plan before scampering off again. Cole wished he had been sprung at that moment, but was relieved too that their contact had been so brief, because he was having a hard time keeping up normal conversation. Being humiliated at Laughy’s seemed like it had happened a long time ago now, and it wasn’t very humiliating at all when he thought of it. He knew the others had been watching that, and probably were going to jab him about it for weeks. He knew Jay would have recorded it.

    When he got home, maybe they’d watch it together. That would be nice.

    The lipstick took weeks to wash off.


End file.
